


I'm With You

by el3anorrigby



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, major angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 13:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4837154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/el3anorrigby/pseuds/el3anorrigby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya hated the way they’d become, formal, cold and stiff. They weren’t like this before. Perhaps the only time they’d acted like this had been the first time they’d met. </p><p>The one where they realise love, but they're just a little too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm With You

Napoleon moved under the spray of warm water, braced a hand on the cool tiled wall and let the liquid engulfed him. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back as the water pummelled his body, battered and bruised after another gruelling mission. The sensation calmed him from his physical pain but it was nothing compared to the emotional hurt he was feeling. However he tried, his efforts to block out his unwanted thoughts of Illya and Gaby together proved unsuccessful. 

The emotional mess he was in had been entirely his fault. He’d been slow to admit his feelings for Illya and by the time he had summoned enough courage to do so, that little flicker of flame was put out and whatever chance he thought he might have had was snatched away from him. 

He’d seen them kiss, a kiss Napoleon presumed Illya had practised to perfection, because this was Gaby and to Illya, Gaby deserved only the finest things in the world. They way he looked at her, the way he had his arms around her, Napoleon should have known better. They had danced around each other for months and when nothing had happened, Napoleon presumed this ambiguous thing between them would never materialised. He was wrong. 

“I’m happy you finally took the plunge, Peril. Both of you deserve each other,” he’d said, mincing his words. And then when he’d seen Illya's smile and the way his eyes lit up, he knew he had to bury whatever feelings he’d ever had for Illya. 

 

***

 

Napoleon’s hopes for things to get better only seemed to grow worse everyday and he wondered how much longer he could keep up with his false pretence. They were the best damn team UNCLE had ever assembled and being in this close knit unit meant being around Illya and Gaby most of the time and that was definitely not helping his cause. Everywhere he went, every corner he turned, he would see them. 

It seemed like a lifetime ago when they had first met, when he’d first took Gaby over that Berlin wall with Illya chasing them like the madman he was. And now, both Illya and Gaby had turned out to be more than mere partners to Napoleon. They were his friends, his family and he would do anything for them, even give up his life for their safety. But being around them now was like living a slow death. It was torturous.

And Napoleon needed out. He was suffocating. 

 

***

 

They were in Paris after having completed another successful mission and were recuperating in their hotel room. Normally they would check into separate rooms but due to overbooking, the three had to share a suite much to Napoleon’s consternation. He resorted to drinking, drowning his sorrow with glass after glass of liquor. Gaby thought Napoleon was acting a bit strange and had warned him to stop but he’d ignored her. And now he was drunk, slumped on the sofa with eyes closed and an arm across his forehead but he was talking non stop. She indulged him at first but then the conversation switched to Illya and then Gaby’s heart was thudding at Napoleon’s questions.

“Speaking of Peril, do you love him, Gaby? Do you really, really love him?”

Despite his slurring, Gaby found his question to be honest and direct. It was not some kind of drunken statement and it took her by surprise.

“Yes, of course I do love him.”

And if she had been surprised at him questioning her feelings for Illya, she was more surprised to hear Napoleon’s choked sob at her answer. 

“Peril, he’s so good to you, Gaby. And you’re so good to each other. It fucking pains me to see it. Hurts.”

Gaby froze. 

“Solo…what are you talking about. What…what do you mean?”

“Why do I have these feelings, Gaby? Why? These fucking feelings? It’s awful. I don’t want it.”

She quickly moved to take the glass away from Napoleon’s hand and kneeled beside him by the sofa. It was scaring her to hear Napoleon’s words. He was clearly drunk, but his words were like an admission she didn’t want to hear. Something was definitely not right, she could clearly feel it. Suddenly Napoleon let out a low moan and curled his body up like a baby, hiding his face from her. She touched his arm and was shocked to find him trembling, shaking in a series of enormous heaves.

“Solo, what’s wrong? What’s the matter?”

She ran his fingers through his hair, damp with sweat and it was really scaring her at how Napoleon was reacting. She wished Illya was there. He was always good at handling Napoleon but he’d gone off to meet with an UNCLE contact. They were left alone. 

“Solo? Talk to me. What’s wrong, what are you talking about?”

“The way he is with you. The way he looks at you. His eyes, his eyes…it’s supposed to be me, for me. Supposed to be me…”

When he finally lifted his head, Gaby gasped when she saw his eyes. It struck her to see such sorrow in them.

“Solo…”

“Why is this happening, Gaby? I don’t want this. Please take this away from me, it hurts. It hurts so much…”

“Oh, Solo,” she cried as she held his wracked body in her arms. Her heart was in pieces. She understood in silent horror at what was happening. Napoleon was in love with Illya and they had no clue. Her heart was breaking for him.

 

***

 

After his meltdown, Napoleon pleaded with Gaby to keep the unfortunate incident she had witnessed to herself.

“Please don’t let Illya know. He mustn’t know. He can't.”

Gaby looked at Napoleon with unreadable eyes and he had to avert his gaze. She must think he was the scum of the earth, for having those feelings for Illya, for having those feelings for the man she loved. She must think he was filthy. But then Gaby slowly took his hands in hers and squeezed it tight.

“I won’t tell him.”

Her voice was soft and her eyes gentle and Napoleon felt like killing himself. She didn’t deserve this. He tried to pull his hand away but Gaby won’t let him. 

“I don’t hate you, Solo. If that’s what you think.”

Napoleon only gave her a weak smile in return. “I’m so sorry, Gaby.”

His futile apology was all he could offer her in return.

 

***

 

Napoleon was shocked to see Sanders leaving Waverly’s office when he’d arrived at UNCLE’s headquarters one morning. His former handler had no reason to be there, not unless it had something to do with him. He stormed into Waverly’s office for answers and then what Waverly said next left him breathless. It was like his prayers had been heard from the heavens above. 

“The CIA wants you back for a case. And with an option for a permanent return unconditionally. I told them that I would need to discuss it with you first since you are an UNCLE agent at the moment. But the choice is up to you, Solo.”

It was the ray of light Napoleon had been waiting for. An outlet for his pain from seeing Illya and Gaby every fucking day. 

“What shall I tell them?” Waverly asked and his question was met with a firm, unhesitant nod.

“I’ll accept the offer.”

 

***

 

“You’re doing this because of us. Because you cannot bear to see us together. Am I right?”

Napoleon did not need an argument with Gaby that early in the morning. But she was in his apartment and he could not simply throw her out. He chided at her before turning his back against her.

“I’m doing this because I’m being the good agent that I am, Miss Teller. I do what I am asked to do.”

“But you have a choice.”

Napoleon shrugged. “And I’ve made my choice.”

Gaby was angry at his dismissive behaviour. 

“You’re making a mistake, Solo.”

“No I’m not,” he replied, still trying to remain calm despite being close enough to blowing his top.

And Gaby was not doing him any favours, throwing accusations he didn’t want to hear, no matter how right she was. She had come storming to his apartment when she had heard the news and now was standing by his bedroom door, watching him hastily pack his belongings, taking whatever was needed for his trip back to the US. When he continued to ignore her, she slammed her little fist on the wall. That grabbed his attention.

“You know what you are, Solo? You’re a coward. And a good liar as well.”

“Fuck, Gaby, what is it that you want from me?! Do you prefer me to stay and tell Illya how I feel? Is that what you want?”

Napoleon had snapped. He’d never done that before, not to Gaby, but he couldn’t take it any longer. What did she really expect him to do? In all honesty, Napoleon figured he was actually doing her a favour by leaving.

“I just had expected better from you,” she said after she had recovered from her initial shock at Napoleon’s burst of anger, her voice small. “I didn’t think you’d run away from us. I didn’t think you’d leave us.”

“You’d do just fine without me. Give it time. You won’t even miss me.”

His words were bitter. Spiteful. 

“And what about Illya?”

Napoleon’s heart literally stopped at the mention of Illya’s name. “What about him?”

“What are you going to tell him?”

“The same thing I’d told everyone. I’m going back to the CIA.”

 

***

 

There was nothing left to break. Illya had practically destroyed everything in the office he shared with Napoleon. The desks, the chairs, everything were broken to pieces, the scrapes and papers and broken vases, strewn all over the floor. All hell had broken lose. He gasped for breath as he braced himself against the wall, trying to take in the destruction he’d caused. After a while, after he’d managed to calm down, he rubbed his face in his hands as he slid slowly down against the wall. 

“I wish you all the best, Peril.” 

Napoleon’s voice rang in his ears. “Take care of Gaby. Take care of each other.”

“This what you really want?” he’d asked the American agent, the only thing he could bring himself to say. He was really leaving and Illya couldn’t believe it.

“No. It’s not. But you don’t get to choose in life, Illya. Not all the time.”

After they’d shaken hands and said their goodbyes, something which had been a bit too formal for Illya’s liking, Napoleon had left the building without looking back. He wondered whether Napoleon had seen the despair in his eyes at seeing him go. For sure they’d had their differences from the start but gradually their partnership had turned into something Illya had never expected. It was hard to put into words what he actually felt for Napoleon. And he guessed now he would never ever know.

 

***

 

Gaby was having an internal battle. It pained her to see Illya so dispirited ever since Napoleon left. Against her better judgment, she decided to tell him the truth.

“Are you thinking about him?”

Illya felt like he’d been caught doing something wrong. His face reddened. 

“What? I don’t understand what you mean?”

“You’re thinking about Solo.”

Illya shook his head. “No, I was not.”

“Illya I am not stupid. I know. Because it’s hurting me too.”

Illya was trained for a lot of things, but he would never be prepared for conversations such as this, not when it concerned matters of the heart. It had took him a long time to admit his feelings for Gaby and now, this feeling he was currently having, the strange emptiness in him since Napoleon’s departure, it was just baffling him to the extent of driving him mad. Why, why, why was he thinking of Napoleon? That man had no right to be invading and conquering his thoughts, day in and day out.

“Illya, I have to tell you something.”

Gaby. Gaby was still there. Illya needed to focus on Gaby and not the thoughts of Napoleon swirling in his mind.

“What is it?”

“Solo. He never told you why he’d decided to rejoin the CIA. His real reason.”

Illya frowned, his body stiffening. He was not liking where the conversation was headed. “And you know?”

Gaby nodded.

“What is Cowboy's reason?”

And after Gaby had finished telling him everything, about Napoleon’s breakdown and his drunken confession, and after Illya had let everything sunk in, he turned to look at Gaby with an expression so closed off, Gaby could only pull him into a fierce hug, holding him close, just like she had held Napoleon the night he’d accidentally confessed his feelings to her about Illya. 

 

***

 

Illya and Gaby’s latest mission took them to New York. UNCLE had to work with the CIA in solving a case involving the selling of government secrets to former enemies of the Allies during World War 2. They completed their mission successfully, solving it earlier than the time frame expected. Illya was about to leave Langley after handing over the necessary documents to their CIA counterparts when he heard that familiar voice calling out his name.

Something twisted in Illya’s gut at seeing Napoleon for the first time in months. His smile, as charming and heart stopping as ever made Illya realise how much he’d missed him. 

“Fancy meeting you here, Peril.”

“Just closing a case with CIA.”

Illya didn’t know how to get rid of the tightness in his chest at seeing Napoleon. There were so many things he needed to say to him now that he’d known the real reason for him leaving UNCLE. He wanted to reach out, wanted to touch him. He wanted to put his arms around him. He wanted to do a lot of things he’d never dreamt of doing before.

“You want to grab a cup of coffee?”

Illya nodded at his invitation. He owed himself that much.

 

***

 

They sat across each other in that cafe. They’d exchanged pleasantries, asking how the other was doing. Answers to questions had come short and swift and Illya hated the way they had become, formal, cold and stiff. They weren’t like this before. Perhaps the only time they’d acted like this had been the first time they’d met. 

“You and Gaby doing okay?”

Illya flinched at the question and Napoleon straightaway noticed it. “What’s wrong?”

If Illya hadn’t known better, he thought he’d seen Napoleon’s eyes lit up for the briefest of moment. “We are good.” 

“Right, that’s good to know,” Napoleon smiled as he looked away towards the people walking along the sidewalk. Illya caught that split second longing in his eyes and not being able to keep it in any longer, he blurted out what he’d been dying to say.

“Why are you lying to me?”

Illya’s question caught Napoleon off guard. “I don’t understand, Peril? What do you mean?”

It’s time for the truth to come out because Illya knew he would not have another chance to say what he needed to say to Napoleon. 

“Gaby told me everything,” Illya confessed and Napoleon’s face paled at once. He took a deep breath and tried to gather his thoughts. This was horrible. Illya was not supposed to know. Gaby had promised him. Why did she betray him? He quickly rose to his feet and was about to walk away when Illya’s firm grip on his upper arm stopped him.

“Don’t make a scene, Peril,” Napoleon hissed as he tried to break free from Illya’s strong hold.

“You’re not leaving me. Not without answers.” 

Illya’s eyes were intense, his voice determined. It was obvious he would not let him go, not without a fight. Hating that he had to give in to Illya, Napoleon finally nodded in agreement and gestured for Illya to walk with him, which the Russian duly obliged. They walked in silence along the sidewalk until Napoleon stopped them once they reached a bench facing a small lake.

“I’m sorry you had to find out about this from Gaby. It wasn’t easy for me, Peril.”

“And you think it was easy for me?”

Illya’s words had Napoleon staring at him in confusion. What did he exactly mean by that? He was the one who had it tough, having to face them everyday, having to hide his feelings from Illya, having to endure the pain. And here Peril was telling him it hadn't been easy for him? Fuck him. The anger he never knew he had for Illya suddenly surfaced.

“You have no right to say that, no right at all. You don’t know what I went through.”

Just because Napoleon had feelings he’d been too scared to admit, just because he’d felt lowly all those miserable months ago didn’t give him the right to put the blame solely on Illya. He hadn’t had an inkling of his feelings. If he had known, perhaps things could have been different. _Perhaps_.

“And so your only option was to run away. Right, Cowboy?”

Illya was trying to stay calm. He needed answers. If he pushed it too far, Napoleon might bolt again. He didn’t know why he needed to hold on to him, just for a few more precious moments. 

“Illya. You now know the real reason. Gaby’d told you. And now I am here and you’re there with Gaby and that’s all that matters. That’s the end game. There’s nothing else to talk about. Nothing more to discuss. Am I not right?”

Illya’s heart thudded in his chest. Napoleon’s words had hit him hard. In a perfect world, yes, that would be the end game. Illya was happy now with Gaby and Napoleon had his life with the CIA. They were living their lives. And yet why was he feeling discontented? He closed his eyes, willing those confusing thoughts away.

“Illya, this is for the best. And you know it is.”

Illya opened his eyes again to look into Napoleon’s wounded ones and he felt like he’d been stabbed in the chest. He wanted to scream but he didn’t know what to say. 

“Solo,” he began after a moment of uncomfortable silence but Napoleon stopped him before he could say anything.

“Don’t. Don’t say anything.”

Illya hands were shaking now. And Napoleon did what he always does best. He took Illya’s hands in his and gave it a firm grip to still them. Illya’s eyes were transfixed on Napoleon’s. He couldn’t move a muscle and he held his breath. And then, a few heartbeats later, Napoleon was gone leaving Illya feeling empty and even worse than he’d ever felt before. 

 

***

 

The next few months passed by like a breeze. They went for missions, they come home and recuperate. And the cycle repeats, with them going through the motions as expected of them. Illya never told Gaby about his meeting with Napoleon but Gaby was smart enough to understand what had happened. Illya was never good at keeping his emotions in check and his eyes were easy to read. Gaby had no doubt of Illya’s love for her but she knew truly well who was taking residence in his heart.

“Our love isn’t real, Illya. It’s made up. It’s fairy tale. It’s what we want to believe, what we want to hold on to. In a perfect world, this between us would make sense. But it doesn’t anymore.”

“What are you saying?” 

“This love that we think we have? It’s not for us. It’s for you and someone else. Your heart doesn’t belong to me. And you know it.”

Strangely when she’d said it, it didn’t hurt her. And she was sure it didn’t hurt Illya as well. 

 

***

 

As a favour to them, UNCLE had enlisted Napoleon’s help in a special mission. A foreign ambassador had specifically asked for Napoleon in a case and Waverly had relented to his demand. Illya and Gaby were to be his backup. Both agents had argued, questioning Waverly’s decision to put Napoleon in the field instead of them but Waverly had been quick to cut off their arguments. 

After their tensed last meeting, Illya knew it was going to be difficult working with Napoleon. But Napoleon was the picture of professionalism and it infuriated Illya to a hilt. Was he that quick to forget? Didn’t he matter anymore in his life? Gaby was more understanding and tried to calm Illya, telling him that at the moment, the mission had to come before their personal life. 

They were now in Dubai and Illya and Gaby were waiting in a car about ten miles off of Napoleon’s position based on Illya’s tracker.

“This feels just like old times,” Gaby chimed in, breaking the silence. Illya merely shrugged. He didn’t want to reminisce. 

“I don’t like this mission. Something seems off. Why Cowboy? We have lots of other agents. So why him?”

Gaby understood Illya’s worry and it had bothered her as well. But they couldn’t argue even if they wanted to.

***

The mission went entirely wrong. After a few hours of surveillance and tracking, Illya could hear an argument between Napoleon and the person he was with. But it wasn’t the ambassador in question. It was a third person, speaking in Italian and suddenly there was shouting and scuffling and Illya could hear the sound of glass breaking and bones crunching. 

“Gaby, we have to go to Cowboy. Something’s not right.” And then he heard it. The unmistakable sound of a gunshot followed by Napoleon’s sharp pained cry. 

“Solo!” he cried aloud as if Napoleon could hear him. 

Gaby was stunned. “Illya what is it?!”

“I think Solo’s been shot. We’ve got to go, Gaby!”

 

***

 

They arrived at the scene ten minutes later.

“Solo!’ Illya shouted as they searched the area and his heart all but stopped when he saw him sprawled on the ground with two other men beside him. Gaby quickly assessed the situation as Illya checked on Napoleon. 

“This two are dead,” Gaby said firmly, kicking the gun she presumed that was used in the shootout away from the sprawled bodies. She was however, trying her best to hide her fear at the sight before her. The sight of Napoleon all bloodied on the ground.

"Illya? How is he?" Gaby asked but Illya couldn't hear a word that's being said. His focus was on Napoleon. 

“Cowboy? Hey, can you hear me?” 

He had knelt down beside him and was now putting his trembling fingers to his neck. He let out a shaky breath of relief when he found his faint pulse. As gently as he could, he cradled Napoleon’s body in his arms. There was blood all over him, too much blood.

“Napoleon, please?! Can you hear me? Cowboy?”

Illya was frantic when he didn’t get a response. He began shaking Napoleon’s body and then Napoleon let out a small moan.

“Cowboy?” 

“I’m c-cold.”

“I’m here. I’m here,” Illya said reassuringly. “I got you.”

“I never imagined, it’ll end like this,” Napoleon then muttered, with a faint smile on his lips. But his eyes were closed.

“Don’t talk like that,” Illya replied, trying his best not to let his voice betray his panic, his grief. Blood was seeping through Napoleon’s shirt, seeping in between Illya’s fingers that were holding him. It was a gunshot wound straight to his chest and Illya felt cold, the chill coursing through his veins as he held Napoleon’s limp body. He rubbed his thumb on his cheek, wiping some of the blood off his face. 

“Illya,” Napoleon muttered again. “I’m…I’m sorry about what happened between us…I wish..”

“Shh, don’t talk, Cowboy. You need to save your strength.”

Illya felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Gaby.

“Solo?” Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “Just hold on, okay? Medic’s on the way.”

“Gaby?” Napoleon said. For the first time since they'd found him, Napoleon opened his eyes and looking into those blue eyes he never realised he loved so much made Illya’s inside twist painfully. 

“Gaby, I’m sorry. Forgive me?”

Gaby only nodded to Napoleon. Words were completely lost on her. This was too much, too much for her to take. And Illya, his face at the moment was a picture of pure heartbreak. He was hopeless and if there was any hope at all for a miracle, this was the time they needed one. 

A sudden coughing fit had Napoleon spewing blood from his mouth. The anguish in Illya was palpable, so strong Gaby could feel it in her. But she was helpless to do anything.

“Illya, Im sorry I’d never said it, t-to you…I'm sorry.”

There were tears on Napoleon’s face but it wasn’t his. It was Illya’s. “I’m sorry too, Cowboy. I-I never said it to you.” 

“Y-you loved me?” Napoleon asked, hopeful, for one last time.

“I do. I love you,” Illya choked.

It was the only thing that mattered at the moment. Illya’s answer to Napoleon’s question. 

A question that should have been asked and an answer that should have been given a lifetime ago. Unfortunately he had realised what Napoleon had actually meant to him a little too late, when death had come knocking on Napoleon’s door. 

Illya was utterly devastated. And all he could do then was leaned in and placed kisses on those still warm bloody lips. He then held Napoleon’s face and wound his fingers in his hair, placed kisses on him again and again, on his eyes, his cheeks, his jaw, kisses him like he could bring him to life. But he couldn’t because he was gone. Napoleon was gone and he was too late.


End file.
